


and there will come a time, you'll see

by IceSword46



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Scott!centric, Someone Please Help Scott McCall, for both his sake and my own, for someone who doesn't watch TW anymore I sure still have a lot of feelings about it, warning for brief suicidal thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-31
Updated: 2014-10-31
Packaged: 2018-02-23 07:53:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2540159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IceSword46/pseuds/IceSword46
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott never would have gotten his tattoo if he'd known what it'd end up reminding him of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and there will come a time, you'll see

**Author's Note:**

> Since I haven't watched Teen Wolf since the penultimate episode of season 3 I don't know how the show has addressed the mental health of Scott and the others so I don't know how canon compliant this is.The other day I had the sad realization that Scott's tattoo will always be a reminder of everything that happened and this is what came out of that train of thought when I took a break from studying.
> 
> I don't own any of the characters. 
> 
> Title from After the Storm by Mumford & Sons

He’s started getting this pain in his left arm. The first time it happened was his first day back to school after the funeral. He hadn’t even made it into the school yet. He had parked his bike and was walking around a school bus that was parked out front when he suddenly just felt this burning feeling, hot and constricting around his bicep. His right hand flew to it to grip it roughly and he looked down at it but it was still his arm, ink-covered and bruised. No one was around him to notice and he shook his arm roughly before raising his head again and walking inside the building. 

It happened again a couple of days later when he looked down the row of lockers to his left and across from his to try and find Kira. The flare of pain appeared again and he slammed his locker shut, hard, in surprise. The girl at the locker next to him jumped in surprise and he got out an apology before hurrying in the other direction and taking refuge in the nearest bathroom. He collapsed against the wall and slid to the floor but that just made it hurt more. He let out a low groan of pain and let his head fall back against the wall as he tried to focus on his breathing. In. Out. In. Out. He wasn’t having a panic attack but he hoped it might help. The pain subdued to a dull ache, like the day after a particularly tough work out, and he stood on shaky legs. As he walked out of the bathroom he reminded himself to ask Lydia if there were any cases of getting phantom pain when you still had the limb. 

Three weeks later and the pain still hasn’t gone away, not entirely. It flares up every so often, in a couple specific classrooms at school, in a few places in the preserve, but for the most part it’s just a weak burning sensation. He didn’t need Lydia’s help to figure out why it was happening. He knows why, but he can’t admit it to himself, not yet. He isn’t sure how it will affect him during full transition later that night but he’s not looking forward to finding out. He hasn’t talked to any of his pack about it though he knows Stiles and Lydia know something is wrong. He can’t lay that on them, not when they both have so much weighing on themselves: Stiles for everything with the Nogitsune, Lydia’s guilt for not being able to stop it. He has too much of his own guilt to shoulder.

He fully transitions at 8:14 P.M. and it has never before hurt as much as it does now. The burning sensation spikes in his bicep, hot and harsh, before radiating outward to engulf his entire body. He wonders if he would have felt like this had the night at the _Glen Capri_ ended differently. He wonders if everything gone differently if he’d just been able to… 

He wants to hope it might have. That Boyd would still be here, and Erica, too. Even Aiden. That Isaac might not have left. That Allison might not be buried six feet underground when he would do anything to take her place. 

He wants to hope that it might have but doing so just wracks him with more guilt, more shame, at the deaths he’s caused, the deaths hasn’t been able to prevent. The burning sensation still hasn’t gone away and he wonders if it’s possible to spontaneously combust. The pain he felt when got the damn tattoo was nothing compared to this. His body is shaking violently from the pain, unrelenting, and he _relishes_ in it. It makes him feel human – such cruel irony – in a way he hasn’t felt in almost a month, rather than the past few weeks that have gone by in a haze of emptiness.

He hasn’t cried since the hour before the funeral when his hands were shaking too violently to do his tie and his mom came cautiously to the doorway of his bedroom. He looked at her, tie hanging limply in his hands, before brokenly whispering, “I can’t fix it.” Melissa rushed to him wrapping him in her arms and it was like the floodgates were opened. He sobbed in her arms, unable to stop, until he finally had to because he couldn’t breathe and _oh god was this what a panic attack felt like how does Stiles handle these?_ She guided him through it to the point where he could stand on his own two feet, do his goddamn tie, and get himself to Allison Argent’s funeral because he would _not_ make Lydia and Stiles do it on their own.

Now it’s like that day all over again and he lets out a howl that’s full of _anguishsorrowpainguiltrage_ every single emotion he’s let bottle up since that night.

***

Lydia Martin has screamed more than she ever wants to count over the past year, screams that warn of misery and death, including her best friend’s. But as she lies curled up in bed across town, she thinks that she has never heard something as haunting as the howl that just came from Scott McCall. 

Stiles has never wanted to be a supernatural creature. Not a werewolf, not a banshee, not a homicidal lizard. It wasn’t until he was possessed by one that he understood the intensity of the emotions it causes you to feel. He wonders if he’ll ever get past the guilt of knowing that the only reason he can even begin to empathize with his best friend’s howl that just pierced the night is because he caused it. 

***

By the time he’s done his throat is raw like he just scream-sang along to an entire concert set. His body no longer feels like it’s on fire but he still falls to the ground, drained. Before his eyes close from exhaustion, he realizes he’s in the same clearing when Allison used to park her car while the two of them were dating. He wonders if he’ll ever escape these reminders, no matter how small, before he remembers that he won’t. His tattoo, those two simple rings on his bicep will never let him. 

Those two simple rings that were supposed to be a reward to himself for moving on when he thought he may have lost Allison for good. For dealing with that open wound. His naivety makes him sick to his stomach. Those two simple rings that were going to symbolize a _new and improved Scott McCall:_ a Scott McCall that did well in class despite a part-time job, a Scott McCall that didn’t let down his mom despite his lycanthropy, a Scott McCall that _didn’t_ let almost half of his friends die in the span of a few months.

Instead those reminders will stay burned, literally, into his skin. The only time they won’t be there is when he’s too fully transformed – more cruel irony – to see them. He doesn’t remember falling asleep but he’s grateful for the relief it brings.

***

When he wakes up he is moving and very confused. He feels his temple against cool glass and realizes he’s in his mom’s car. He misses the feel of the window when he pulls away and rights himself. “Oh good, you’re up, we’re getting pancakes,” he hears a familiar male voice say from the back seat at the same time he hears his mom’s voice say, “hey, sweetie.”

He turns to see to see his mom glancing at him out of his peripherals and rotates a little further to see Lydia and Stiles sitting in the back seat. Lydia hands him a shirt. “You’re dirty; I brought you a shirt to change into. Sorry it’s long-sleeved but it’s the first one I found.” Her voice and expression say she’s really not sorry at all and maybe that she understands. Her hand stays on his for a moment before she lets go of the shirt. He smiles weakly.

“Derek picked you up this morning and dropped you off. He was going to bring you inside but I knew you’d need food so I told him to just put you in the car,” his mom explains. “You managed to sleep through Stiles slamming his door because he forgot you were in here” – Stiles shoots him a sheepish look and it's the most he's looked like his old self in weeks– “but I guess you have pretty decent timing considering we’re pulling in now.” He can see Derek and Kira leaning against Derek’s vehicle that’s parked in a nearby spot.

The other three start getting out of the car as he pulls off his shirt. He glances at his tattoo and feels a short flash of pain. It’s weaker than usual… It’s a start. He pulls on the new shirt, gets out of the car, and walks up to the others.

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to think of a couple different places that held meaning to Scott and Allison that could be triggering for Scott, like the bus from back in season one or where her locker was in relation to his or even motions like sliding down the bathroom wall like on the lacrosse trip.
> 
> I hope you liked it!
> 
> I'm on tumblr at scottmcstark.tumblr.com!


End file.
